


Back In Your Head

by owlaholic68



Category: Urban Shadows (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: (Referenced) - Freeform, (more explanation of that throwaway line from Phillip about being kidnapped), (or lack thereof), Boundaries, Complicated Relationships, Cuddling & Snuggling, Denial of Feelings, During Canon, Implied/Referenced Sex, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kidnapping, Light Angst, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Protectiveness, Sick Character, Swearing, Theodore is an asshole in this but maybe less than normal, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Vampire Turning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 16:29:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29335326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlaholic68/pseuds/owlaholic68
Summary: Remember when I was sweet and unexplainable?Nothing like this person, unlovable...
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Kudos: 4





	Back In Your Head

**Author's Note:**

> Title and Summary from Tegan and Sara's "Back In Your Head" because some of that is a Phillip *mood*

Theodore insists that he’s feeling much better, but he’s still sweaty and unfocused throughout the afternoon.

“We’re going home,” Phillip declares several hours before the workday is officially over. “And you can quit it with that look. You’re going home, _now,_ and I’m driving you.”

“Bossy,” Theodore grumbles, abandoning his half-drunk cup of coffee, his first and only cup that day.

Phillip ignores his comment in favor of helping his boss put on his coat. “Are you going to throw up again? Because I just cleaned my car.”

Theodore hisses. “No, fuck off. I’m fine. I told you that I’m fucking _fine_ now, Phillip, you can stop hovering. It’s so damn annoying.” He brushes off Phillip’s hand steadying him. “Just fucking _stop.”_

“No.” Phillip controls his voice so he doesn’t start yelling. He’s always been too emotional, too hard to rein in. But not this time. He’s not going to keep letting Theodore rile him up. “No. Come on.”

Despite his grumbling and arguing, Theodore sinks into the passenger seat of Phillip’s car like he’s been waiting to leave all day. He leans the seat back and closes his eyes. Phillip turns on the radio so they don’t have to talk. It’s love song hour; he changes it immediately to classical instead.

The ride is blissfully short. Theodore doesn’t live far from work.

His penthouse apartment is inhumanly clean and bare of personality. Boring, Phillip’s mother would call it. Cold. There are fake plants on the coffee table and no food in the cupboards. A well-used coffee maker and a sink full of mugs are the only signs of living in the space.

“Sit your ass down,” Phillip commands. “Do you want coffee?”

Theodore groans and plops down on his sleek couch. Not a great sign: he normally drinks a dozen huge cups of coffee a day, so the lack of caffeine appetite is worrying.

“No coffee, then. Water?”

“Fuck off.”

“Cool. I’ll do your dishes.” Phillip busies himself putting all the mugs into the dishwasher. The mugs alone give him a full load. The rushing water helps calm his tensed-up nerves. When’s the last time he and Theodore have hung out without fucking? Last night they got hammered and nothing happened. But other than that night, have they _ever_ actually properly hung out together?

He finishes with the dishes and awkwardly clears his throat. “Need anything?”

“Fuck off,” Theodore echoes, eyes closed, broad shoulders slumped into the cushions. He’s removed his suit coat and loosened his tie.

Phillip perches on the edge of an armchair across from the couch. “I’m not leaving. You’re not going to get me to leave by being rude.”

Theodore grumbles. He cracks a dark eye open and crooks his finger in a _come here._

“I hate when you do that.” Phillip obligingly comes over anyways. “That’s one of my least favorite things about you: that you always do that thing with your finger.” He stands between Theodore’s knees. Crosses his arms. Makes sure that Theodore can see his clear displeasure.

But Theodore doesn’t give a shit. He points at his lap.

“No.”

Theodore points more forcefully.

“No. I’m not sitting on your lap. Not when you don’t use your words and instead you point like I’m supposed to obey and do whatever you want.”

Apparently short on words, Theodore growls instead, shoulders tensed and betraying his annoyance. Well, he can’t always get what he wants when he’s going to be rude about it.

Phillip rolls his eyes. “Say please.”

“Stop being a little bitch about this.”

“Wow, that’s a lot of words to waste not saying _please.”_

Theodore grits his teeth. His fingers, splayed on the cushion, curl and twitch. He wants to grab Phillip but knows he’s too weakened to do it successfully. _“Please.”_

“Wow, that was so fucking hard, wasn’t it?” Phillip tosses his hair and plops his full weight in Theodore’s lap. “How are you feeling?”

It’s Theodore’s turn to roll his eyes. His possessive hands are on Phillip’s hips and waist. He ignores the question and leans back, closing his eyes and pulling Phillip with him so that he’s cradled against Theodore’s much larger chest.

They don’t talk for twenty-five minutes: Phillip times it on his phone. Theodore doesn’t feel like talking and Phillip has nothing to talk about. They sit curled up together, cuddling like…like a real couple. Like they care about each other. Like Theodore doesn’t just ring Phillip up whenever he wants a release.

Too intimate. Too gentle. Phillip squirms just so Theodore can tighten his grip to stop him from moving around. The too-rough dig of Theodore’s fingers in his flesh grounds him.

“How are you feeling?”

“Shut up.”

“Sorry.” Phillip sighs. “No, not sorry. Go fuck yourself. I want to know how you’re feeling.”

_“Shut. Up.”_

“Headache?” Phillip guesses.

“Yes. Shut up.”

“Do you want water or anything-”

“For fuck’s sake, are you Orion now? Do you ever shut your pretty little mouth?”

 _“Don’t.”_ Phillip’s voice wavers. He’s not sure which part of that bothered him so much, but it’s making his chest hurt.

Theodore’s eyes crack open. “Oh, now you want _me_ to shut up? All done with talking now?” The sarcasm is laid on thick in his quiet raspy voice. “And how are _you_ feeling?”

“You’re such a fucking _asshole!_ I hate you!”

“You _don’t,”_ Theodore cruelly echoes in a mockery of their conversation earlier that week. “You really don’t.”

Tears come to Phillip’s eye too quickly to hide them from Theodore. He whirls and tries to make his escape, but the arms around his waist constrict and stop him.

 _“Theodore!”_ He shrieks and ineffectually slaps Theodore’s hands. All his wriggling is in vain: Theo’s arms are like two pincers keeping him locked in place. “Fuck off, _fuck off!_ Leave me alone!” He sniffles. A few dumb stupid overemotional tears escape down his cheek. He angrily swipes at them with his sleeve. “I _hate_ you, I hate you, I fucking hate your face and I wish – I wish I didn’t have to see you anymore because I hate you so much!”

They both know that’s one big horrible lie.

He gets himself to stop crying after a few agonizing minutes. Theodore is silent the entire time.

The tension in the room is making Phillip’s head hurt. He finally lets himself relax back against Theo’s chest, putting arms around his boss’ chest and burying his head in his shirt.

Theo allows it. He sighs, his breath ruffling Phillip’s hair.

Phillip clears his throat. “Do you,” he clears his throat again, “do you really still think I’m pretty?” He sounds too vulnerable, too young. He’s not supposed to care anymore. He’s been ruined beyond repair and it doesn’t matter any longer. Like when you break a mug and try to glue the broken pieces back: it never works and it only makes the disaster more obvious.

There is a long silence from Theodore. Phillip doesn’t dare look up. He regrets asking the question.

“Shut up.”

Not an answer, but Phillip’s pessimistic mind immediately takes it as a _no._ “Did – did you turn me because you thought I was pretty?” He closes his eye. Something must be wrong with him today, to be asking these questions and getting all emotional. Fuck, is he sick too?

“Shut up.” Theo’s voice isn’t as strong this time: there’s a subtle waver on the last syllable.

“Do you regret it?”

“Shut the _fuck_ up, Phillip.” Theo sounds queasy.

Phillip hits Theodore’s chest. “Do you even fucking _care_ about me?” He hates that he’s crying a lot now. He hates that Theo can see it. He hates that he loves Theodore too much, that he agreed to take him home and watch over him. “I don’t think you do care, I don’t think you – you’ve _ever_ fucking cared about me or – or anyone else!”

Theo snatches Phillip’s wrist. He roughly undoes the buttons of Phillip’s sleeve cuff and shoves the fabric up, wrinkling it, exposing a swath of horrible but faded scars on the back of Phillip’s arm. He seizes Phillip’s chin with his other large hand, forcing Phillip to look him in the eye.

Those eyes make Phillip flinch and shudder: there’s an intensity that correlates with the memory that Theodore is trying to evoke.

“Theo…” He sniffles. His stomach churns because now all he think about is that time that he got kidnapped and tortured for information. That shit happens to Suppliers sometimes. He thinks about waking up after who knows how long to Theodore bursting in covered with blood that wasn’t his, dripping from his fangs and fingers, his eyes dark and ferocious and protective like they are now. “Theo, I – I’m sorry…”

“Don’t say shit like that again.” Theo releases his grip. The _of course I care_ is lingering in his eyes.

Phillip breaks eye contact. He pushes his rumpled sleeve back down. Curls up in a little ball in Theodore’s lap and wishes he loved Theodore less, or at all, so that he could go home and be done with this.

He wishes he’d never met Theodore.

That’s not true. When he is going to stop lying to himself?

* * *

The calls from Faidra and Orion agitated Theodore too much.

“Sit your ass back down,” Phillip snaps. “I’m not letting you go anywhere.”

“Let me call Orion, then,” Theodore growls. _“He_ hasn’t blocked me.”

“Maybe he fucking should, if you’re going to constantly bother him. He said that he’s _fine.”_

Theodore snarls in frustration. He pauses to lean on the wall and wince. “I am going to find that Fae bastard who hurt him and I am going to fucking _eat_ that motherfucker and – and there is nothing you can do stop me.”

“You’re not going. You’re breathing hard just from walking around. There’s no way you’re going to be able to eat some dude. Sit. Down.” Phillip stands and grabs Theo’s arm. “Or lay down. Let’s go to the bedroom and lay down.”

“I’m not a goddamn invalid! I’m fine, Phillip, I’m fucking _fine!”_ Theo is shaking, though, betraying the toll the day has taken on his health. “Stop it! Leave me alone for fuck’s sake!”

“No!” Phillip gets up on tiptoes into Theodore’s face. “Listen to me, you asshole. You’re being insufferable and stupid. Lay down. Eat a dude later.”

“Fine.” Theodore shakes Phillip’s grip. He stomps to the bedroom and slams the door shut behind him.

Phillip winces. He gets himself a drink of water and fills a glass for Theodore too.

In the bedroom, Theodore is sitting upright in bed texting on his phone.

“Are you texting Orion?”

“None of your fucking business.”

Phillip sets the water on the empty side table. “You need to leave the poor boy alone. Stop texting him.”

“Don’t fucking tell me what to do.” Theodore frowns at his phone. “He’s not texting back.”

“When did you text him?” Phillip climbs into the bed, awkwardly large for someone who doesn’t sleep.

“Thirty seconds ago. Something’s wrong.”

Phillips laughs. He ignores Theo’s glare: it’s so sad that it’s become funny. “This is why I blocked your ass. Give the kid five minutes. Ten, maybe, since he’s having issues with time.”

Theo rudely bares his fangs. “He’s _not_ responding.” He throws the blankets back. “I’m going to check on him.”

“Nope!” Phillip pushes him down. “You’re not going to fucking do that. You’re going to give him ten minutes like a normal person.” He lays on top of Theodore, pinning him down.

Theodore is plenty big enough to push him off, but he only sighs and lets himself be trapped. He resists when Phillip wrestles his phone out of his fingers, but finally gives up and lets Phillip put his phone several feet away.

“I know that you’re worried about him-”

“I’m not.”

Phillip rolls his eyes. “Right, so since you’re so worried about him-”

“I am _not,_ Phillip, stop fucking saying that.”

“You are.”

“Am not.”

Phillip laughs again. He’s never laughed so much in one week, let alone because of Theo. “Anyways, since you’re so _not_ worried about him…”

Theo’s frown deepens. “Shut up.”

“Aru’s taking care of him. You’ve got nothing to worry about. Remember Aru? Wizard Yoshino, the one who didn’t start a fire in the lab? They did great work with us and you _know_ that they’re excellent with potions. If they gave Orion stuff to take care of this, then he’s all good.”

Theo grumbles. Aru had done _amazing_ work with them a few years ago. “Fine. But I’m still going if he doesn’t respond in ten minutes.”

“Whatever.” Phillip tries to sit up to get Theo his water, but Theo puts an arm around his waist, and one around his ass, yanking him back down.

“Grabby little bastard,” Phillip complains. “Can’t you ever keep your hands to yourself?” He’d never admit that he likes Theo’s rough handling (within reason), so complaining is easier.

He only gets more grumbles in response. Theo closes his eyes and lays back.

Like earlier, they spend several minutes in silence. Theodore occasionally opens his eyes to glance at his phone. He tenses as each minute goes by.

Finally, his phone dings with a new message.

“He says he’s fine,” Theo reads.

“Then he’s fine.” Phillip’s dexterous fingers snatch the phone away before Theo can start typing a response. “He’s all good and you don’t need to bother him anymore. Let him rest. Give him a fucking break.”

He throws the phone across the room. Theo snarls, his hands tightening in annoyance.

“You know what? If you promise to not bother me every time you text, I’ll unblock you,” Phillip promises.

Instead of mollifying Theodore, it only makes him more pissed. “You’d better fucking unblock me or else,” he vaguely threatens.

“Promise to not come after me if I don’t text you back immediately.” Phillip fake-pouts at Theo’s growing anger. “Oh, does it make you mad when people set boundaries? Give me ten minutes to text you back, or I’m not unblocking you.”

Theodore looks _furious._ “Unblock me,” he demands. “It’s fucking stupid that you did it in the first place. What if something had happened to you?”

“Why are you so paranoid?” Phillip asks instead of answering the ridiculous question. “Ten minutes is more than reasonable. If I really do get kidnapped again or whatever, you’ll know in ten minutes. Otherwise, I might be in the shower or something. You can wait.”

“Fuck you.” Theo closes his eyes again.

“Fine. Not unblocking you, then.”

Theo growls low in his throat.

Somehow, Phillip feels like he won that contest of wills. Theo can’t just force people to conform to his stupid clingy needs.

He adjusts himself so that his head is in the crook of Theo’s neck. It’s a terrifyingly intimate position for vampires: Phillip’s teeth are a mere inch from Theo’s vulnerable throat. To make it even more personal, Phillip wiggles his hand into Theo’s.

Theodore jerks his hand away as if he’d touched a hot pan.

Phillip sighs. Foolish, emotional, he’d hoped for too much. The problem is that Theodore doesn’t _do_ gentle. He’s only allowing the limited tenderness right now because he’s sick and weakened.

He enjoys this, though. It won’t last for long.

They lay together for the rest of the day and night. They don’t talk again. Four hours in, Theodore relents and holds Phillip’s hand. His larger hand completely engulfs Phillip’s.

In the chilly autumn morning, Theodore corners Phillip in the bathroom after brushing his teeth, pinning him to the bathroom counter and kissing him roughly, briefly. It leaves Phillip breathless and weak-kneed, believing for just an instant in romance again before he reminds himself not to be so stupid and naïve.

Theodore puts arms under his hips and lifts him to sit on the bathroom counter. He insists upon shaving Phillip using an old-fashioned straight-razor. Another act of trust, letting Theodore get a blade so close to his face.

“I’ll give you ten minutes,” Theodore whispers when he’s drying Phillip’s face with a small towel. “But I fucking hate it.”

Phillip doesn’t know what to say that wouldn’t sound sarcastic. He caresses Theo’s hand on his jaw.

A small victory. The next thing Theodore does is make himself a cup of coffee and down it in one gulp: another tiny step forward.

They dress, go to work, and start a fresh new day together.


End file.
